


Sing Me to Sleep

by Fishyz9



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny’s reaction to Will in a hospital bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Me to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the song title Sing Me to Sleep by The Smiths, it’s a beautiful song, a beautiful title, and struck a chord when thinking of Sonny’s POV. I’ve also had this fic in mind for the past few weeks since the spoilers came out, but I like to wait until after the show has aired before writing, otherwise I end up wishing I’d written it a little differently. Also, the idea of Sonny struggling with the aftermath was in part inspired by this fic: http://bit.ly/Zm4qnF by beautifulhigh. Go read it.
> 
> Also, bank holidays with nothing to do but write fanfic FTW!

I hated everything about it. I hated the smell of the room―just completely sterile, and Mechanical. I hated the _sounds_ in that room, or I should say the lack thereof. People get quiet in hospital rooms; they’re quiet even when they walk by, as if volume might shatter the people who are trying to mend and heal, like a fucking soufflé. And you don’t realize it at first, but the sounds you don’t notice, the sounds don’t _hear_ during the day, you miss them like hell when they’re suddenly gone.

I missed the noise of a stranger’s conversation around me, just the noise of it, you know? You don’t know what they’re saying, you can’t hear the words, but the thrum of it is a comfort I never really thought about before. I think it’s a reminder that we’re not alone. So when you’re sitting in a room where the only sounds are the beeps and clicks of machines, it makes that realization that this is not normal, that something terrible has happened all the more stark and surprising.

Just clicks and beeps. Clicks and beeps and if I listened very close…his breathing.

I remember looking around that room, bewildered, because Will did not belong there. Will with his smile that unlocks something inside of me, his bright eyes and his nervous energy. He didn’t belong in that bed.

It took him longer to wake up than it should have. The doctor said that everyone is different and, when our bodies go through a trauma? Well, then we go on autopilot for a little while. He was trying to be kind to me as he explained that, because I was the one in the room getting angry, I was the one wringing his hands, I was the one who people looked at with pity.

Will did not wake up when they said he would, because of _trauma_. That wasn’t good enough for me. I didn’t like the idea of Will―the part of him that is _him_ , being MIA while the meat and bone of him, the science of him took over. I was impatient. I was desperate to be rid of this distance shoved between us by a bullet. I don’t know how to explain it. I could hold his hand, I could speak to him, but he wasn’t there, not yet.

 _Autopilot_.                                                                                                                                                             

I. Wanted. That. Feeling. Gone.

I needed him to wake up so I could exhale.

I needed him to wake up and look at me so that I could have that rush of relief. The words and reassurance of professionals meant nothing. They don’t understand _this_. They don’t get that I need him; I need Will Horton for everything now. I can’t be with people. I can’t go to work. I can’t study. I can’t be me without that knowledge―that little reminder in the back of my head―that I belong to Will, and Will belongs to me.  That _imprint_.

Thinking of it now, I suppose I might be embarrassed. Of course he woke up; it just took him a day longer than they said it would, but for that extra day I could not leave. I could not breathe easy, and I could not feel safety or relief or anything good. Just anxiety, fear and just _please, please come back I’m still here, don’t forget me and leave._

Even Sami took a backseat to my garbled words, to my stinging eyes and shaky hands. In fact I think this terrible thing that happened turned her feelings of like for me into love. I fell apart in front of her, and all for Will. I think that despite the horror of knowing her son had been hurt, she was somehow comforted to know that there was another person in the room―other than her and Lucas― who would not survive losing Will.  

And now that the dust is settling I can remember their kindness towards me, how they treated me like their own. When I needed it, they gave me time alone with Will without me even having to ask. They gave me time alone with him because for them, the doctor’s words made sense. They were still worried of course, still anxious to see Will open his eyes and to hear him speak, but they were no longer frantic. I’m not really sure why I wasn’t the same, it’s a different relationship, I guess.

They left me alone so I could talk to him, because I _needed_ to talk to him. I needed to tell him to be okay. To please, _please_ be okay. I had to tell him that I didn’t want to be here without him, that I didn’t want to do _anything_ without him. I told him I didn’t work on my own anymore; that he changed me―he changed my chemistry. And I told him. I told him all the things that had been brimming up inside of me for the longest time.

_I come in two parts now, Will. Me and you._

It was not only the first time in my life that I could have killed someone―one person in particular, but it was the first time I felt that Kiriakis gene inside of me roll over and stretch.

Nick Fallon.

The man who had belittled him, manipulated him, dehumanized him and stole from him. That was the shell-shocked man, now silent, who could not look me in the eye. Because the one time he did? The one time he opened his mouth to say something to me in that hospital waiting room? I said it all with a look. One look.

_You’ve got a bullseye on your back, Fallon._

He closed his mouth, and I haven’t seen him since.  

I think the worst of it was seeing him in that bed. Will in bed is a wonderful thing, but not a hospital bed. He should never be in a hospital bed, only _our_ bed. In our bed he’s warm and sleepy, and when he’s not sleepy he’s warm and handsy.

 _I stretch out an arm to blindly reach for the alarm that’s chirping, telling me to get up. I try to roll back into the nice, warm space that was mine only a few seconds ago, but it’s already been filled. I snort, and attempt to roll onto my back. This at least he allows, and I lift an arm for him to sleepily duck under so that he can sprawl across me, his head under my chin. I know I should get up and get ready to open up the coffee house, but it’s the hardest thing in the world to pry myself away from a snuggly Will. Yes,_ snuggly _._

_“Oi, you.” I murmur into his hair._

_“Mph.” He grumbles, his arms circling me as he rubs his cheek against my shoulder._

_I sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but it’s a lie and we both know it. Even half asleep he knows it. “I have to get up.”_

_“No.” He mumbles, hugging my middle a little tighter._

_I grin. “Someone has to open up the coffee shop.”_

_“Chad.”_

_“No. Me.”_

_“Chad.”_

_“Chad did it yesterday, it’s my turn.”_

_“Don’t care.”_

_“I don’t care that you don’t care.”_

_“Chad again.”_

_I laugh softly and card my fingers through his bed-ruffled hair. “I love it when you’re too sleepy to speak in full sentences.”_

_“Shh,” his hand reaches up blindly, eventually covering my mouth (after nearly poking me in the eye). “’M sleeping.”_

_I move his hand away. “You don’t need me to sleep, mister.”_

_“Yes I do. Shut up. Sleepin’.”_

Yes, Will in bed is a wonderful thing. I don’t even mind that he’s the reason I’m usually as late as I always am to class, or when opening up Common Grounds in the mornings. I mean, if you’re going to be late, that’s a pretty good reason.

He’s just such a tactile guy, and I never would have guessed it when we were just friends. I mean he hugged his friends, but he was never really that way with Gabi. I know _now_ why that is, but it was still a nice surprise when we started dating to discover just how comfortable he was to touch and be touched now that he was finally out. And the mornings were always the best, even when I wasn’t rushing to go anywhere.

_I try to roll over but the dead weight on my back won’t allow me to budge. Still half asleep I lift my head a fraction from the pillow, frowning, before I realize with a roll of my eyes why it is I can’t move. And I can pretend to be annoyed, I can tell myself that it’s irritating, but I love to feel his breath against my shoulder._

_“Will?” I say groggily. “Come on, not this again.”_

_“Why’s my pillow talking?”_

_“Because it has to go to the bathroom, get off me.”_

_“Shh.”_

_“I will_ not _shh.”_

_“Go sleep.” He grumbles into the back of my shoulder._

_“I have to pee.”_

_“Hold it.”_

_I laugh into my pillow. “Come on, Will. Nature’s calling.”_

_“Tell nature you’re busy being cuddled.”_

_“I can tell by your voice that you’re awake now.”_

_“No I’m not.”_

_“Yes you are.”_

_“Nope.”_

_“Will!” I laugh. “Do you want me to pee the bed?”_

_“I want you to go back to_ sleep _.”_

_“I’m gonna kick your butt later.”_

_“Don’t care. I’m comfy.”_

_“You’re ridiculous.”_

_“I’m a spoon.”_

_“…_ What _?!” I laugh._

_He snuffles against my neck, hugging me close. “I’m the big spoon, you’re the little spoon.”_

_“Will…that’s when we’re lying on our sides.”_

_“If we lay on our sides will you shut up and go back to sleep?”_

_“My bladder’s starting to hurt.”_

_“Baby.” He accuses._

_“If I promise to come right back and let you continue to smother me, can I go to the bathroom?”_

_He’s quiet for a second, sighs, and then rolls off of me with a huff. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”_

When he was lying in that hospital bed I wondered if it in anyway felt odd to him, I wondered if it filtered through to his subconscious that I wasn’t there. It hurt to think that a part of him might be reaching out for me, feeling lost and not knowing why.

It was Lucas that made me leave, just for a little while, with the promise that my dad was in the waiting room, worried and wanting to see me. It wasn’t easy to get me out of that room, but he managed.

I’d moved to the end of the bed to make room for Lucas and Sami to sit either side of Will. I knew that I should have left by now, just to give them time with their son, but propriety wasn’t my main concern at that moment. I couldn’t physically let go.

_“Sonny, it’s okay.”_

_I look up and realize Lucas is standing next to me, looking at me oddly enough just how he looks at Will sometimes._

_“I don’t want to leave him.” I whisper, knowing how dumb that sounds and not caring a single bit. I’d taken up station at the end of Will’s bed, rubbing the shape of his foot through the blanket._

_“Your dad’s here, he’s worried about you.”_

_I close my eyes for a second when Lucas squeezes my shoulder, and for a few moments it does make me want to see my own father. “I can’t,” I whisper, ridiculously close to tears yet again. “What if I let go of him and he stops breathing?”_

_“Oh Sonny,” I hear Sami say quietly, and I realize I’ve made her cry._

_I look down at my hand when I feel Lucas gently grip my wrist. “I’ve got him,” he says softly in a way that I don’t recognize coming from him. “See?”_

_He slides his hand under mine as he lifts my wrist, and gently grips Will’s ankle._

_“I’ve got him, and I won’t let go, I promise.”_

_“But…”_

_“Sonny, sweetie, come here…”_

_Sami walks towards me and pulls me into her arms, and it’s easy to see why Will forgives all the insane crap she puts him through when she’s like this. She is such a_ mom _._

_“Will is going to be fine.”_

_“He hasn’t woken_ ―”

 _“He’s going to be fine. I know it’s difficult to stop worrying. I know you probably won’t feel better until he’s awake and talking to you, but he_ will _wake up, Sonny. He will.”_

_“Go see your dad,” Lucas says. “You were chased around by an ex-con with a gun, Sonny. It doesn’t matter that you weren’t shot, he’s still probably worried sick.”_

I took an hour to see my dad, who actually did make me feel marginally better, but then I was back in that room. And true to his word, Lucas hadn’t budged.

Eventually he woke up. He was groggy, confused and sore, but he was awake. Those eyelids fluttered open, and as he mumbled incoherently those blue eyes eventually cleared, and focused on me.

After he’d heeled enough to leave the hospital, and after he’d had a chance to meet his daughter―a beautiful moment I can’t quite put into words―I took him home to rest some more. I’m ashamed to say that there’s a slight chance that I may have clucked over him like a mother hen ―a creepy thought to me.

I think everyone wanted to take care of him, the big hero. But I got to take him home. Me. I took him back to _our_ apartment, and _I_ took care of him. I could tell that he was indulging me. He would lay there on the sofa, watching me with a fond smile as I fussed around him, making sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed, and he just let me, as if he somehow knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

In all honesty, I think I fussed because…because I wasn’t _over_ it. I wasn’t over seeing Will wounded. I wasn’t over feeling helpless and terrified that I’d lose him. The only time I began to feel remotely better was when I got to lay beside him in bed again for the first time in nearly two weeks. And even then it took me hours to fall asleep.

After some initial shuffling we finally found a sleeping arrangement that was comfortable for him. Will does not like to lay flat on his back; he prefers to be on his side, preferably holding me as if I was his fucking teddy bear (I love it). But there were certain angles that were still a little uncomfortable for him, so for once, it was me that propped _him_ up. I got to hold him in my arms.

I was the big freakin’ spoon for once!

And it’s when he’s in my arms, when he’s fast asleep and there’s no sound but for his steady breathing and the heavy downpour outside our bedroom window that I let myself shake apart. I hold his tight, I breathe him in, and I can’t help it…my mind goes there whether I want it to or not. I think about the _what ifs_.

What if the bullet had sailed a few inches higher and hit his heart? What if he’d died? What if instead of being in my arms right now in this warm bed, he was laying miles away in the cold, wet ground. All alone. Dead. I can’t stand the thought. I just can’t…

“Sonny?”

His sleepy, garbled voice startles me almost, and I quickly wipe my damp cheeks, clear my throat. “Hey, you need something?”

He rolls ― _slowly_ ―over to face me, and even though I think I have myself under control, as soon as he blinks away the last remnants of sleep and his eyes focus on me in the dark, his expression morphs into one of alarm.

“ _Hey_ ,” he whispers harshly in his surprise, and then speaks with infinite tenderness, “what’s…what’s all this, huh? What’s going on?” 

His hand against my cheek makes the lump in my throat even more difficult to ignore. “Nothing.” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye. “It’s nothing, go back to sleep.”

“Why are you crying?”

Just hearing him say the words makes me ashamed, and I begin to pull away from him, but he takes my arm, anchoring me there.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me what’s going on. Tell me ― _hey_ , come back here.” He pulls me back, forcing me to lie next to him again. He gently holds my chin between his thumb and finger. “Talk to me.”

I take a few breaths, not even knowing what to say, but as soon I begin, it all just starts tumbling out of me. “You nearly _died_ , Will. I nearly lost you, and I don’t know how to be okay with that.”

I don’t even realize the tears are falling again until he pulls me into his arms. I hate myself in that moment for being emotional over something that only might have happened and in fact did _not_ happen, but Will is nothing but soothing to me.

“I could have lost you, I don’t know what I’ll ever do if I lose you. Never leave me alone like that again, okay? _Please?_ ”

I can’t stop the tears, and I can’t help the catch in my throat, but just saying the words out loud to him now that he can _hear_ them is a kind of relief in itself. Even more so when holds me close, gently murmuring to me, rubbing my back, running his fingers through my hair.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, cradling the back of my neck as I press my face into his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even…you were like this and I didn’t even _see_ it.” he hisses angrily.

I pull back a little and look at him, flummoxed. “What?”

“Here’s everyone fussing over me. And I’m just…I’m just happy to let you look after me while I focus on little A.G. and you’re…you’re still hurting over what happened and I didn’t even see it.” He presses his lips together unhappily. “Sonny…” He cups my face and kisses me gently, again and again. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

At least my confusion is enough to stop my embarrassing tears. “Will…you were _shot_ , and you had a baby, don’t…don’t do that, don’t blame yourself because I can’t keep it together.”

“ _Hey_ ,” he says firmly. “Don’t _you_ minimize what is you’re feeling or everything _you’ve_ been through. This is a two-way street; I should have felt that you weren’t okay.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, I…I _could_ have died, I could have ― _shit_ ” he whispers when a sob makes it way out of my throat. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Me and my insensitive, big fucking mouth!”

I can’t talk; all I can do is shake my head.

“Okay, come here.” He says, and then encourages me to turn over. I don’t really know what’s going on until I feel him slide up behind me, pressing his chest to my back and completely encompassing me with his arms. “Shh, it’s okay…”

I grip his arm that crosses over my chest as the panic inside of me begins to subside.

“That’s it, deep breaths. You feel that? Huh? You feel my arms around you?”

I nod my head.

“You feel my heart beating against you?” He begins to tap his hand against my chest, over _my_ heart in a gentle rhythm.  “Do you feel how strong it is? Can you feel how strong _I_ am?”

Slowly I calm down, and I nod my head because I still can’t really speak.

“That’s because I _am_ strong, Sonny. I will never willingly leave you. I will never put you through anything like that again.”

“Do you promise?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice.

“I do.”

“You have to say it! You didn’t wake up, Will. You took forever to wake up; you have to say it…”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” I whisper, and slowly, I feel myself begin to calm.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I can feel the protectiveness in him―the determination as he continues to hold me, and presses his lips to my shoulder.

It’s quiet in our bedroom now. There’s just the sound of the downpour outside and Will’s breathing. No clicking, no beeping, just natural, visceral sounds. Eventually a calmness that deserted me when Will was hurt slowly settles over me, and slots back into place, but I don’t let go of his arm.

“Do you know why it took me so long to wake up?” He whispers, and I shake my head.

“I was dreaming of you.”

Finally, I let myself exhale, and I fall asleep.

 


End file.
